


Boys Like Me Better

by orphan_account



Series: who can't stop staring at the mirror [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Trans Male Character, trans patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7168847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick is trans. And he's tired. So, so very tired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys Like Me Better

Patrick didn't want to go to school. He never really did nowadays, since he announced to the world April had never existed— it had always been him, Patrick. He remembered the day like it was yesterday— it had been two weeks ago, in fact. He had stood in front of the class, taking a deep breath before his following words. "Hey, my name's Patrick Stumph and I'm here to present this project."

 

He had heard confused murmurs and Pete's gaze burning into his neck. And the teacher's fulminating look, as she said with a sickeningly sweet voice, "Your name is April Stumph, honey. Are you alright?"

 

It had all gone downhill from there. He would come back from school everyday with a black eye or bruises all over his arms. The guys from his school passed the breaks punching him and calling him a tranny and a dumbass and a girl. It hurt — it hurt so, so much. He would end up crying almost all nights, but they lived in a small town, and the school was the only one of good quality. So they couldn't move him to another one, and homeschooling wasn't an option at all. His mother was accepting— his father wasn't something he liked to talk about.

 

He had left as soon as he knew his daughter— actually, son— was a tranny and 'not his daughter anymore'. He had left besides his wife's pleas and Patrick's insistent crying. He left as he called him April, and telling him there wouldn't be a day he'd see him again. And it was true— it had been over two months since he came out to his mother, and he was so frustratingly alone, so painfully alone.

 

All he had was his mom and his boyfriend, Pete. He had been the first to ever know about his gender; Patrick had told him in a rush when he got to know he was bisexual and not straight. Pete had been quick to accept him, and it warmed his heart to know he had at least one actively supportive person in his life. He'd defend him from transphobic assholes. But he was quieter now, more silent than ever. He wasn't as vocal about his support— and it scared him. So much. So, so, so much.

 

He was tired. Very much so. He had tried before to do this— first when he was twelve, next when he was fourteen. Every other year, was it? Now he was sixteen. The pills laid on the shelf. He knew how easy it could be; his mom was away at work, he could perfectly do it. He'd die, and this would be over.

 

She. Daughter. Niece. April. Girl. Woman.

She. Daughter. Niece. April. Girl. Woman.

She. Daughter. Niece. April. Girl. Woman.

 

He was fully-on shaking by now. He wanted to end this. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to end it all, to not hear 'she' in his life ever again. He was tired, and he was terrible, and he was so wrong by being who he was. He wasn't even who he claimed to be, was he? He wasn't a boy. Fake, fake, fucking fake piece of shit.

 

It took him a few minutes until he could swallow down the pills. They tasted bitter on his throat, and he almost throwed them up, but soon he fainted on the cold tile floor.

 

* * *

 

He woke up to a feeling of sickness washing over him and someone's crying. He recognized it a second later, and he sat up, alarmed. It was no one's but Pete's! He forgot for a second what was he doing in the emergency room until he felt bile rising up his throat. He remembered the feeling of the pills on his throat, and he shook his head, feeling sick again. Why had he done that?

 

"Ms. Stumph!" a nurse said as she entered the room. She looked fairly neutral, not even worried about Patrick. He understood why; she must see things like this everyday.

 

"Please use Mr. for me," he stated blankly, dysphoria taking the best of him.

 

She blinked a few times and then nodded. "Alright, Mr. Stumph. How do you feel?"

 

Patrick shook his head, a bit of gratitude in him because she did what he told her to. "I feel quite sick..." he managed to say, bile rising up on his throat as he spoke.

 

The nurse gave him a bucket and he threw up on it, feeling slightly dizzy afterwards. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

 

"It's normal for trans people to attempt that. Don't worry, Mr. Also, do you want to see people who are waiting for you?" The nurse was calm and assertive, and she was very polite too. Patrick liked her.

 

Patrick could only think she meant Pete and maybe his mom. "Yes, please," he said, a little bit of desperation in his voice.

 

The nurse opened the door and Pete rushed to the room, his eyes red by crying so much. "Patrick!" was the first thing he said as he hugged him tightly, burying his face on the other's neck. "I was so worried," he muttered as he looked up, his brown gaze locking with Patrick's blue one.

 

"I'm sorry, I was... tired."

 

Pete kissed him almost immediately, their lips crashing together. It was soft and like honey and Patrick fairly needed it. When they pulled away to get air, Pete kissed him again.

 

"I'm so glad you're okay," he breathed. "I thought you were gonna die."

 

"I won't die," he promised, repressing a sob. "I promise I won't."

 

"You promise?"

 

"I promise." And their lips met again.

 

* * *

 

After many pleas, his mom let him move schools. The other school wasn't as of good quality as the last one, but they didn't know him as April, so it worked. 

 

He was met by assholes who would comment on his breasts, or people who got to know about his birthname. One of them was a dude called Spencer, who was one of the biggest assholes he had ever met. 

 

"Hey, April! How does it feel to be a girl?" He'd say, grinning, and Pete would have to use all of his self-control to not punch him in the face. 

 

Patrick usually didn't answer, but it didn't affect him anymore: he had been met with much worse at his old school. 

 

Pete and him were happy now, as Pete could be vocal about his disgust for transphobes now. Patrick loved him with all his heart, as he was the most accepting person he had ever met. 

 

It was one of those dysphoric days. Patrick had stayed home, and Pete had made his way to get out of school to go see him. 

 

"Patrick!" he said as he rushed into his bedroom, jumping into the bed. "You're a real boy and I love you."

 

Patrick shrugged, not looking at his boyfriend. "It's not that big of a deal, really. It's not like I'll ever go on T to be an actual boy."

 

"You're already an actual boy, though." He got closer to Patrick and their lips met drowsily. "You think of yourself as a boy?"

 

"Yeah...?" he trailed off, scratching his wrist nervously. 

 

"Then you're a boy." Pete planted a kiss on his forehead and cuddled close together to him. 

 

Patrick and Pete fell asleep that way. 


End file.
